The Henry Fell Story

Slaughter's my name. Luke Slaughter. Cattle's my business. It's a tough business. It's big business. I've got a big stake in it. There's no man west of the Rio Grande big enough to take it from me.

Luke Slaughter of Tombstone. Slaughter of Tombstone. Civil War cavalry man turned Arizona cattle man. Across the territory from Yuma to Fort Defiance, from Flagstaff to the Wachukas, and below the border through Chihuahua in Sonara, his name was respected, or feared, depending on which side of the law you were on.

Man of Vision, Man of Legend, Luke Slutter of Tombstone. Folks who write dictionaries must have a pretty tough time with the word tolerance. I guess if you had to boil it down to just one other word, it would be to be understanding.

Some of us here in Tombstone found that out when I gave Chief Margano and a few of his Apache braves the loan of a couple of sections of my spread to try their hand at cattle raising, and I got chewed out plenty about it every time I went into town.

Well, you call it an experiment, slaughter. I call it an invitation to those sneaking the patches to murder you. They're living on my spread. Don't you figure it's my business? They won't stop with you.

Once they smell white blood again, they'll massacre everybody in Tombstone. Look, Mr. Vail, Margano's through making war. He's trying to understand their ways. He's even trying to get his people to adopt some of them.

Well, they adopted guns quick enough, but they'll never be cattlemen. This was their country before it was ours. They've got a right to be part of its progress. You can't just shut the Apaches up on a reservation and forget them.